Fatally Yours
by CharmsLithe
Summary: Moran is rather obsessed with his professor.  Teacher/Student AU, Slash.
1. Chapter 1

It was the way he moved, I think, that first caught my eye. I suppose I was meant to be paying attention to the bull shit he was spewing. I caught the odd cadence of his voice, but not much else. I should probably put you under the impression that I didn't care. Basically, I didn't. I still don't.

My focus was on the breadth of his shoulder in comparison to the slight cinch of his waist, which was ever emphasized by the way he moved. He managed to gesticulate with his center, keeping his hands in his trousers. His suit was perfectly tailored to his body. It wasn't so well fit that my imagination wasn't required - worry not, it was heavily employed. What really got me, and what fueled those late-night wanks, was the way he'd turn his head and strain that fucking gorgeous neck of his.

When someone would say something particularly stupid or misguided, he would turn his face to the ceiling and then to his left, giving me a particularly nice look at the ridges of his throat. Often enough his tie had loosened, the top button been undone at some point during the day, which gave an almost pornographic view of his trachea and the sinew surrounding it. His throat, and the sounds it made, seemed to stick into the pores of your skin like a blood stains cotton.

To say I wanted him was not completely correct. I wanted to fuck him. Obviously. Everyone wanted to fuck him. Or I assume they did. I didn't talk to everyone. They didn't talk to me. We had an agreement. I wanted to be him. I wanted to become a small piece of that sinister stare he had. I wanted to taste the depth of of his pupil. I wanted his skin over my bones, between my teeth, inside of me. I wanted something of him. I wanted all of him.

"What is it you need, Moran?" he asked as I stood before his desk. The other boys had cleared out very quickly before then, which left me standing there with my mouth agape. He did not look up to acknowledge me.

I cleared my throat and stepped back, touching the edge of his desk with the fingertips of one hand. "I was wondering what I could do to pass this course," I said, which sounded like a decent enough lie.

His dark eyes raised from his page to stare into me. I maintained the contact, "You're not a stupid boy, are you?" he asked. His voice was flagrantly slow. His expression appeared blank, though his eyes darted back and forth over me. I had no idea what he saw. I shook my head a bit and he grinned. His smile was controlled but seemingly genuine. "Meet me in my quarters in half an hour," he ordered, his voice low with the command. I nodded and began to move for the door.

He stopped me then with a, "No," which was high in pitch. "I've changed my mind," he explained. "Close the door and lock it," he said, standing behind his desk and calmly approaching me. I couldn't move. I wouldn't have moved if I could have. He touched my shoulder, his fingers delicate as the pressed against my bone. I turned to face him.

Professor Moriarty had his head turned in the way he did so often, but his eyes were on me, his jaw set and flexed before it swerved to return to it's normal position. He was smaller than me, which I should have known. It hadn't really occurred to me. I'd never been standing around him long enough to realize I had to look down into his face. "It's James," he says, moving toward me.

"What is?"

He made a high sound that was meant to be something like a laugh.

"My name," he said as he was upon me, his voice lilting in the delicious way it often managed. We weren't touching, not in any way that was obscene, although we'd certainly crossed into each other's personal space. We didn't touch for a while, he just stood there, looking into me. But his patience didn't last long. He scoffed and leaned forward to speak into my ear, "Well go on, then," he whispered.

Without further consideration, I slipped onto my knees before him.


	2. Chapter 2

I sat up on my knees, raising a hand to press and rub against the crotch of his trousers. His hands slid into his pockets. I bit my lip, trying to control my breathing as I'd realized it had become rather heavy. There was hardly any blood in my head; I couldn't form coherent thought. I could feel his cock hardening under my palm.

A strong hand wrapped itself around the underside of my jaw and pulled my head up. His wide wild eyes were dark as they looked down into mine, his pretty little mouth sneered one word, "Greedy." He held the vowel, rolling it along his tongue. His hand was tight on my bone for a moment before he released it and slid his fingers back into his pocket. I groped him harder and edged closer, leaning up to watch my hand move against him.

I couldn't wait anymore. I sucked my lower lip and pulled open the fly of his trousers. Some strange noise left my throat as I examined his outline in the dark grey of his pants. He snickered, but I didn't care. I just wanted his cock in my mouth. So, a bit more eagerly than was dignified, I pulled down his pants. I studied him for half a second before taking him completely into my mouth.

With him pressed down my throat so much as he was, it was not very easy to suck his entire length. I still gave it a good college try. I'd learned a long time ago that a gag reflex was more of a hinderance than an asset; It was an all boys school after all. I sucked along his shaft, moving back and forth.

Most guys will thread their fingers through your hair and tug or something, but he pressed his palms against my temples and began to move his hips. I groaned around him, grabbing onto his hips as I tried to breath through my nose. He didn't stop when I struggled a bit. It occurred to me that he was fucking my throat, and I knew I must be leaking into my pants. I needed to touch myself so desperately; I popped open the button of my trousers as he snapped his hips into my throat once more.

He looked down onto me, I could feel it even with my eyes closed. I slid myself along him, trying to maintain the rhythm he had stopped until he dug a few nails behind the joint of my jaw. "Filthy boy," he hissed, sliding his cock from my mouth. I leaned forward to take it back, but when I did he grabbed my hair and thrust me backward. Having been taken completely off guard, I fell onto my back on the floor.

Professor Moriarty stood beside me, he carefully unbuttoned his shirt and shimmied it to the ground. He stared down at me, so I took to stroking my cock again. He smiled, watching my hand with a leer. He pulled off his under shirt quickly and finished removing his trousers, toeing off his shoes inside of them. He confidently swayed over me, and straddled my throat. His hand returned to the length of my hair, forcing my face upward, his balls resting against my lips. I sucked them into my mouth as his dark eyes stared into mine. He jerked his hips, pulling him from my mouth before forcing his cock back down my throat.

He leaned forward onto his elbows and began to fuck my mouth again; this time his thrusts were faster and more violent. This was accompanied by small beautiful noises; they were uncontrolled and dark, unbearably so. I managed to breathe through my nose without sputtering, keeping my throat relaxed. I managed to enjoy the feeling. To think he was going to come inside of me was far too much.

I tightened my grip on my cock, so close to coming already. I was burning hot and I wasn't sure how much more I could take. But I wanted desperately to be conscious when he did orgasm. I held back for so long as I could, but failed and came with a whine around the head of his cock. He let out a noise at that, sliding his cock even further into my mouth. He sat up, grabbing the back of my head and pulling me along with his cock. He inhaled sharply, hardly moving his hips at all. I took to sucking him again, bobbing my head along his length as a foreign noise left his throat. A moment later, he is pressed down into me, coming into my throat.

With all of the consciousness I can muster, I swallow it, trying not to focus on what my professor had just done. I could barely taste him as he pulled himself from my mouth and stood. He knocked a box of tissues off of his desk and redressed. I cleaned myself off, threw the wad of tissue into the rubbish, and put my cock away, moving to stand.

"I suppose that will do, Moran," Professor Moriarty said as he did up the top button of his shirt, his eyes moving along me. It was an appreciative stare, his lips quirking upward. I turned toward him, clearing my throat. I realized then that it was sore as fuck.

"Is that all?" I asked, my voice hoarse.

It was a curious form he took at that, slithering to stand closer to me, his head turned to extend his neck. I wanted to sink my teeth into it, but it seemed my opportunity had passed, "I don't think so," he whispered, as though it were a threat. "Seb-bast-ti-an," he said slowly, dragging his nail across my throat, a sneer playing at his lips to contrast the sweet sound. I inhaled and flexed my jaw in response before I fled the room without flourish.


End file.
